


Fealty

by straylize



Series: Royalty/Retainer AU [1]
Category: Persona 3, Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Everything Hurts, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Persona 5 Spoilers, Royalty/Retainer AU, Sick Character, love but also politics, pegokita, possibly expanding universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 19:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14960586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straylize/pseuds/straylize
Summary: [Royalty/Retainer AU]A great and vast kingdom, led by a benevolent ruler and aided by the most loyal of retainers. But that sort of life isn't easy—it takes a whole lot of sacrifice to lead a nation. It takes even more to be the man who supports his king.But still, feelings cannot be quelled just because you will them to. Just because you tell yourself you don't want to feel them, that doesn't mean they stop. And for King Minato Arisato and retainer Akira Kurusu, it means the moments they can enjoy together are nothing short of brief and fleeting.





	1. A brief history of the kingdom, and how we arrived at the present day

The kingdom was vast and sprawling; centuries had granted time and power to its rulers. A strong military gave them way to acquire more land, and further power, until there was little to contest. The times when war raged subsided, and that left the Arisato Kingdom a peaceful one. Their vast lands could have been considered an empire—their allies and enemies alike certainly viewed it that way, but the ruling house chose not to abuse their power. Tensions quelled with time, and while factions existed both outside the kingdom and within that harbored resentment for lands and countries lost to past wars, time was kind to the kingdom. Once their desired land had been acquired, the head of the monarchy always remained diplomatic, and did all possible to keep their country at peace.

Charisma was a trait that ran deep within the family, as did a gentle sort of kindness that seemed to betray the written history of their fair nation. They did what they could for their people, and though times were not always good, they often prospered due to their quick ability to problem solve and a further ability to utilize their skills and charms to be diplomatic. The result was that save for those smaller, underground factions—the Arisatos were loved by their people for centuries. They celebrated the birth of a new heir, they drank merrily when the heir apparent was to be wed, and they mourned when their monarch saw the end of their life. It was a cycle that seemed to be never-ending; peace reigned without much more than small acts of rebellion or failed invasions for more than one hundred fifty years, and each year that remained peaceful only drew further celebrations for their great nation.

The Arisatos, while rulers of the kingdom and certainly the most notable figures, were hardly the only ones with power, nor the only ones who drew attention from the common people. Second to only the Arisato family was the Kurusu family. Though record had been lost of how the two families came to form such a strong alliance, their power was unmatched. Just as the head of the Arisato family would become the highest ruler of the country, the head of the Kurusu family would be head of security. The Kurusus served as retainers and personal knights, with the firstborn always being raised, and trained from a young age, to serve the monarch’s every need and ensure their safety. Others in the family served as commandants, security detail, and other roles tailor-suited to protecting the palace and royal family. It was rare to see an Arisato without a Kurusu in tow—and that was a fact that had stood the test of time, from the start of the Arisatan Calendar. The Kurusu family was loyal to a fault, and as a result, were entrusted to take over rule of the kingdom should every last Arisato fall.

This was something that while not known to the general populace, was known well to the other ruling Houses of the kingdom. Each House represented a region of the nation, nobles that governed on a smaller scale, and earned their place thanks to the benevolence of the monarchy following the wars their land had been acquired from. Each of the six Houses had their own agenda and reasons for loyalty to the Arisatos.

House Kirijo, House Nanjo, and House Okumura were the first three of the noble Houses. As part of the peace treaty of the War of Four Kingdoms in the fourth century, their lands became one, and brought greater prosperity to the people that had come together of four nations. These houses have the greatest power in the Kingdom’s hierarchy, and were the Arisatos and Kurusus both to fall, their diplomacy would be the primary power to keep the kingdom from falling. House Kashihara and House Ikutsuki were the houses of least power in the kingdom. Both had come to be thanks to the kingdom’s occupation of their lands in the fifth century; a time when drought consumed the land, the small kingdoms of Kashihara and Ikutsuki had lush crops and resources, but lacked the manpower to maintain. They came to agreements to fold into the kingdom in exchange for retaining governance of their territory. The result was a largely amiable takeover, though both House Kashihara and House Ikutsuki continued to operate and form alliances based on their own personal agenda and benefit, rather than solely for the needs of the kingdom as the former three Houses.

House Shido, the final of the noble Houses, came to be in a much less amiable fashion. A century and a half prior to the present day, Noriyoshi Shido commanded his army to march on the Arisato Kingdom. Known as the Great Human Sacrifice of 620, it was known that no military in the world could match the Aristans. Yet he forced them to march anyway. His goal had been to usurp the throne and take the kingdom for his own, having believed that he knew better than the reigning monarch, Teruhito Arisato, in how to lead the nation and world to greatness. It quickly became a massacre, with the Arisatan military eradicating all threats on sight. With Shido’s numbers quickly dropping, he was left with no choice but to concede to the kingdom; though it didn’t seem at the time that he cared much for the lives of his people, the Arisatans  _ did, _ and their effort to negotiate with Shido was done primarily to prevent another massacre. The result was House Shido; even after so much time, tensions remained high, with those living in Shidan territory holding generations-long grudges against the Arisato Kingdom for slaying their families. Powerless to do very much, they were the cause of many of the skirmishes that ensued once their lands had been united, and though the Shido family was cordial and diplomatic at all times during political meetings, they never seemed to be anywhere near as allied as the other Six Ruling Houses.

The Six Ruling Houses didn’t hold absolute power over their territories, and could be overruled by the Kingdom at any time However, the monarchs were reasonable; twice a year a summit would be held to discuss the current matters—often taxes, agriculture, and basic infrastructure, as well as enforcement of laws and potential new ones. It was about as fair as it could be, despite some hostilities; only the heads of each House would attend these summits, and only these heads were privy to some of the inner workings of the kingdom—including what were to happen if the ruling family were to fall, be it to illness or assassination. That issue had never come into play, as the royal family was very diligent about birthing heirs, and the Kurusu family were just as diligent in ensuring that there would be an heir to the position of retainer.

It was the year 742 on the Arisatan Calendar, twenty-seven years prior to the present day, that things began to change in unexpected ways. As per custom, the heads of the Kurusu family conceived their first child in anticipation that the newly wed Queen, Masako Arisato, would begin to bear heirs within five years. Retainers were often close in age to their monarch, elder by no more than seven years, and usually no less than two, in order to ensure the incumbent retainer could understand their role by the time a new heir was born, but also be close enough in age to reasonably serve their lord fully and completely. With the Queen wed, it was imperative that a new retainer be born, so they could begin their training as soon as they were old enough.

However, it was only a month later that Queen Masako announced to the nation that a new heir would be born—and that was something that threw the system into disarray. Never before had a retainer been born only mere weeks before the Crown Prince or Princess. On the eighteenth day of the second month, Akira Kurusu was born and within a week, christened as the retainer to the yet unborn Crown Prince. Less than a month later, on the thirteenth day of the third month, Crown Prince Minato Arisato was born, dubbed 45th heir to the Arisato Kingdom. There was great debate, primarily amongst the Arisatos and Kurusus about the optimal way to proceed; it was unprecedented for the two to be so close and age. Were they do raise them together and risk muddying the strict line of their relations, or would it be better for them to raise the two apart and not let them meet until they were old enough to understand the weight of their roles?

It was a difficult decision for them to make. The precedent for the retainer being older was so they could understand their role by the time they met; they didn’t  _ have _ a strict preset for them being the same in age. It changed a lot, but they ultimately decided that they would have to take things one day at a time. It wouldn’t have been impossible to keep the two apart, but it would have been difficult. They shared quarters in the palace often, and company as well. Though hardly by blood, the Kurusus were still an extension of the Arisatos, even if they elected to often maintain a high level of discipline in order to carry out their duties effectively. They played their cards carefully through infancy and toddlerhood before they came to a decision. They would be raised together and gradually taught their roles. They had the idea that raising them closely could be beneficial; if Akira could see the importance of Minato’s role from a young age, he could be able to grasp the gravity of his own, and perhaps be willing to embrace it at a younger age. All the same, they didn’t want either child to lose all of the whimsical nature of  _ being _ a child. So rather than draw a line in the sand from the start, they would be eased into their parts to play.

They couldn’t have predicted how close the two would be, though. As young children, they were separated only when necessary; Minato for his etiquette classes, and Akira for his training. While Minato had to learn the ins and outs of proper etiquette, basics of politics and world standing, Akira had to train in physical combat and (by his count) approximately one million other things he would need to be able to do in order to serve his liege. But at the end of those long, grueling lessons, they would meet up and cast aside their roles, often to the chagrin of everyone around them. Rather than addressing each other formally, they called each other by name (or sometimes, to make the adults mad “Minmin” and “Rara” respectively, by being  _ too _ casual), and they would play, often like normal kids did.

Mostly. Even with that casual nature, Akira picked up quickly on the fact that his job, his purpose for his whole life, would be to protect Minato with his own. So even if it was risking a scraped knee in the courtyard, Akira would always be there to catch Minato or break his fall. As a result, it was a six-year-old Akira that often retired to his room with scrapes, bruises, animal bites and gashes from sharp edges, while Minato was completely unharmed. It wasn’t something Akira minded; he may not have had a complete grasp of how far his role would one day stretch, or the lines that would eventually need to be drawn.

They didn’t only play with each other, though. As per custom, both the Arisatos and Kurusus bore another child, a safety precaution to ensure that if something were to happen to Minato and Akira, there would be another to take the throne and retainer position, respectively. Four years after Minato and Akira were born, Ren Kurusu was brought into the world, and another three after that, Ryoji was born to the Arisatos. Each did their brotherly duty to include them when possible. When the Six Ruling Houses would meet in the capital for summits, they would also include the children from the heads and retainers of those families as well. Mitsuru and Akihiko of House Kirijo; Kei and Reiji of House Nanjo; Haru and Ryuji of House Okumura; Jun and Tatsuya of House Kashihara; Aigis and Metis of House Ikutsuki would all be in attendance, leaving only the childless House Shido excluded. All were cautious when it came to playing with the Arisato and Kurusu children, though. Even if they tried to include all of the everyone who came to the palace, those children were strictly taught that the royal family and their retainers were untouchable. They kept their distance, which left Akira and Minato feeling differently, but still bothered, by the situation.

Minato was reserved and gentle, and made attempts to reach out using that methodology; he didn’t get discouraged at being rebuffed visibly, but would often give up. It was a direct contrast to his younger brother, who would aggressively try to make friends with them all. Akira, on the other hand, held a bit of resentment for those who refused to even try to get to know Minato, which often led to him confronting the others out of earshot of Minato to remind them that it was worse to ignore the Crown Prince’s wishes. While the sons and daughters of the nobles were reluctant to agree, their future retainers were often more pliable. Eventually, their bonds strengthened enough to ensure future alliances (and friendships, even if none in the group would truly verbalize that, save for a loose-lipped Ryuji who always spoke his mind, even when it was out of turn). Politics would eventually change relationships, but as children, they could at least pass the time together as they learned their roles and began to navigate what the future would hold for them.

Of course, things were not always so simple. As they grew older, the differences in their roles became more apparent. By ten, Minato was sitting in on political conferences; his posture had straightened a bit when he was in the company of anyone but Akira alone, and it became apparent that the only time he could be truly comfortable and relaxed was when the two of them were together. That was by design, of course. Akira was not only his retainer, but his closest friend and confidant; one of the most important people in his life. And while it was okay for Minato to behave in that manner, as the Crown Prince, and knowing that Akira would never reprimand him for those moments, it was Akira who struggled greatly with the shift in their roles.

With each passing year, the Kurusus got more strict about his behavior around Minato. Over and over, he was told, reminded, had it drilled into his head that he was to  _ serve _ Minato. They were not equals, even if as peers, Akira was the closest thing to an equal Minato would ever have.  Lessons became orders.  _ ‘Do not refer to him by name. Only address him as Your Highness, _ ’  _ ‘no slouching, watch your posture,’ ‘always be prepared to tend to his every need.’  _ Some of those tasks were easier than others. Akira was always ready to tend to Minato; he always had the answers to questions, he always looked after what Minato wanted or needed at any given moment. Those tasks never felt like a duty to him, because he enjoyed being someone Minato could rely on, even at their tender ages. It was the formalities that were difficult. Was it necessary to stop calling Minato by his name? Did it matter if he let his shoulders slump when they were doing arithmetic homework in the study?

Akira had a small streak of defiance, of rebellion in him that only seemed to rear its head when it came to matters like that. He wouldn’t abandon his duty, but he loathed the arbitrary ruleset. Minato himself didn’t seem to find it a big deal, so long as it was Akira that spoke casually to him—so why should it matter to anyone else? That resulted in Akira calling him by given name anyway. It caused him to be the way he always was with Minato, until he started getting caught and reprimanded. At first it was verbal. Then, it was minor punishment. But as Akira refused to comply with the arbitrary rules, the punishments got worse. A fourteen-year-old Akira would enter Minato’s quarters, visible bruising and dried blood on his lip, and only wave it off as his combat training getting a little intense.

It was the beginning of the line that had to be drawn. Akira couldn’t be honest about why he was getting injured; his duty as Minato’s retainer meant lessening his worries rather than being a cause of them. When he could see that his rebellious behavior causing trouble for Minato, that was when he began to close himself off a little. Dishonesty about his injuries, standing a little straighter, focusing more on his duty than their friendship. Often, he would not call Minato by any name or title at all as a personal compromise; he hated the idea of putting enough distance between them by referring to him as  _ Your Highness _ , but he would catch another beating from his father if he got caught calling him  _ Minato _ . It was a palpable distance, though hardly enough for Minato to ask him to revert to his old ways—he chose to believe it was simply the way they were changing as they matured. Akira was always by his side and always at his defense; those growing pains, he assumed, would eventually subside.

But they didn’t.

For the better part of two years, things remained largely the same. Akira was just a little stiffer every day, and though he tried to play it off as something he didn’t mind, Minato could sense the tension; they both hated what they had to do for the sake of the people around them. Over the course of that time, they kept their relaxed moments behind closed doors, often in Minato’s quarters under the guise of studying, of tending to duties, of doing things that needed doing. Never did they let others know it was just their chance to  _ breathe, _ though it was often Minato more so than Akira. Even in personal time, the casual form of address gave way to Akira calling him  _ Your Highness. _ Minato insisted it wasn’t necessary, and Akira argued that if he didn’t do it when they were alone, he’d slip and refer to him informally in the presence of the Queen—or worse, any of the Kurusus that had taken to reprimanding him for that rebellious behavior. Minato conceded, and with time, it became as close to natural as it could. By the time they were sixteen, it felt like casual address was little more than a distant memory, and the moments they could really even let go together lessened by the day.

And yet still, there were ways for things to further decline.

The fourteenth day of the seventh month, in the year 759 would be a day that would be considered a black cloud on the history of the Arisato Kingdom. It changed the world forever, and changed the lives of everyone who resided in Arisato Palace, specifically. Though it had no official name beyond its date and a memorial, most referred to it as The Fall. The night was hot, and the sound of cicadas in the trees seemed to echo through every hall. As evening fell, the crickets took their place. The air was still, and as most retired to their rooms for the night, it seemed as if nothing was amiss.

Not until the dead of night.

Death came silently to so many. As they slept, their throats had been slit in silence, with no one the wiser to the assassinations taking place right beneath their noses. First were the children; Ren and Ryoji couldn’t even manage a scream—they were the easiest targets. Following that were the Queen and her King. Most of the Arisatos were dead without even so much as an alert. The assassin followed up by entering the room of Akira’s parents—just a room away from his own, and his keen senses to the strange gurgling noise that came from the other side of the wall.

Akira was cautious as he grabbed his knife, ready to purge any threat that came to their Palace. As he opened his door, he caught light of that assassin exiting his parents’ room with a bloodied knife.

For just a moment, his mind went blank.

The palace was well-guarded, and even a look down each corridor could tell you that nobody should have been able to get past them. But before Akira could even think to process those implications, the need to act took hold. He couldn’t verify if his parents were dead or just hurt, or if the assassin had gone anywhere else. Two things were for certain, though—he needed to check on Minato, and he needed to stop the assassin. And the way it went, the latter was what came first.

The assassin bore a black mask, one that completely obscured his face. But with Akira in sight, the figure had burst forth in his direction, and though Akira was agile, he couldn’t completely avoid the hit. The knife the assassin held dragged deep into his chest; with no armor, it cut through the flesh like butter, though Akira didn’t allow himself to fall.

“It’s not that easy,” he’d rasped out, a fierce fury and determination settled in his eyes.

“You first. You’ll go down,” the assassin responded. There was a familiarity to his tone that Akira couldn’t place, but that didn’t matter at the moment. The  _ who _ and the  _ why _ were secondary to keeping Minato safe. “And then your precious Crown Prince, and both the Arisatos and Kurusus can fall for good.”

The only positive that Akira could think about in that brief moment was that Minato was still safe. It seemed apparent that the assassin was working alone—though, from the sound of it, they were the last two left. Those implications would hit him like a truck later; but first, he would have to deal with the present threat. Weakened from the blow to his chest, the assassin made an attempt to capitalize on it; he pushed Akira to the ground, hand held tightly to his throat and straddled his body. A laugh escaped before he spoke again.

“And then it’ll be  _ mine. _ Not his,  _ mine. _ ”

Akira didn’t know what he meant; he didn't have any idea just who the man referred to, or why specifically he was out to usurp the throne. What he knew was that if he didn’t act fast, he would be dead. And while his own life didn’t matter much, if he died, so would Minato.

He couldn’t let that happen.

So despite the pain that screamed through his body, despite the blood that gushed from his chest and how his shirt was destroyed, despite the way he could feel himself getting dizzy from that and the lack of oxygen, he couldn’t sit idly by. He was a Kurusu. He was a retainer of the Arisato family. He had a person to protect, even if he gave his own life to do so. His knee came upward, slamming into the groin of the assassin, which was enough for the man to recoil and release Akira’s throat. His hand hit the ground, and almost immediate, Akira slammed the tip of the knife straight through the back of it, using the entirety of his strength to force it through until the blade hit the carpet beneath them. He twisted it, and the man cried out in torture and agony.

“It’s not that easy… I already told you that, you bastard,” Akira snarled the words out as he pulled the mask from the man.

A familiar face.

He was one of the castle’s guards; someone who had joined their ranks from one of the territory’s military forces at the recommendation of that House’s leader. He appeared close to Akira and Minato in age, but the hallway was dark enough that he couldn't be sure if that was just visual trickery thanks to the lighting. Akira didn't know him by name, but there was one thing that was certain.

_ He was a traitor. _

This man was a traitor, and Akira burned the image of his pained face into his memory before the he scrambled to his feet. Akira moved to chase him down—he couldn’t let that man get to Minato, or to even  _ live _ for what he’d done. But the assassin had dropped his knife in the struggle, and he had elected to run in the opposite direction of Minato’s room. He was making an escape, blood from his wounded hand dripping.

_ Minato. _

He needed to check on Minato, but he couldn’t. As the guards were alerted to something amiss from the way that traitorous assassin ran, Akira’s eyelids grew heavy from the blood loss—

And by the time he awoke, everyone in the palace had known what transpired, to some extent.

Akira had insisted on keeping Minato away. He told every last guard to keep Minato from his quarters while he recovered; no matter what happened, he refused to let Minato know that he took a nearly mortal wound on that night. He instructed them to lie, to tell Minato he was fatigued from being witness to the deaths of his parents and little brother. It was an understandable situation, after all; the both of them had lost the entirety of their families in one night. At sixteen years old, Minato was going to be coronated and become king, and Akira would follow suit as his retainer, his personal bodyguard, and his closest advisor.

On that night, though, everything changed. The innocence that remained of their childhood withered away. Akira learned that even the most skilled of their family could fall prey to an assassination. That even the father that he both admired for his dedication and loathed for his strict ways could be felled and fail in his duties.

Akira couldn’t fail.

He could never,  _ ever _ let himself fail. No matter the cost, he would protect his king. He would never falter, he would never let the things that caused him to rebel when he was younger get in the way of his duty. To serve Minato…

  


That was his duty.

  


That was his purpose in life.

  


And so, three weeks later, the coronation was set. Akira was recovered enough to move about, though he was cautious to not reopen his wounds, all the while hiding the injuries he’d sustained. That morning, before the ceremony, would be the first time they’d meet since before their worlds had been turned upside down.

“Akira, I have a request,” Minato stated quietly. “My last before I take the throne.”

A last request in their fleeting age of innocence. A last that he could make as a friend and not as a king. Akira nodded his head. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

To that, Minato shook his head. “My name. At least one more time, like you used to.”

But Akira took pause at that request. “M…”

He couldn’t do it.

He tried more than once to say it. But every time he would try to say  _ Minato _ , a sense of duty and guilt would cause the words to die in his throat.

“My lord,” was what slipped out of his mouth after a long few minutes of frustration. Minato dipped his head, a manner unbecoming for a young man about to take the throne, but conceded anyway.

“Call me that instead of ‘Your Majesty,’ after today, then,” it was the best compromise they could come up with, that was what Minato had decided.

And so for the next ten years, that’s how it would be. Akira would address him in that way, and they would be bound to duty. Regardless of wants, regardless of feelings, they would do everything they could to maintain their positions and the kingdom. Akira would serve loyally and dutifully without falter, and both of them would quietly long for more happiness than they could ever allow themselves to have.  
  



	2. Fleeting moments, enduring feelings, and a decade of unrequited sentiment

Ten years passed, but things never really got  _ better.  _ Akira and Minato both were forced to grow up quickly following The Fall, and as a result, they fell into their roles. Akira tended to Minato’s every need,  oversaw general security of the palace and sought out to find and capture the assassin that took the lives of he and Minato’s families. 

Minato remained gentle through his years; he was warm and compassionate to his people, and he did all he could to try and bring prosperity to the land. He didn’t just meet with the heads of the noble houses, but that of the common folk to hear their needs, though never without Akira in tow as personal protection, should there have been a threat. As a result, though, the Arisato Kingdom prospered in ways it hadn’t under previous rule; even rebellious factions had quieted down following The Fall, and that left him a bit more at ease. He still greatly enjoyed Akira’s company, despite silent lamentations that they could be more casual with one another. He admired Akira’s strength. He admired the way he never complained, even with the most mundane of tasks. He admired how he tightened palace security and personally screened every potential guard they could bring in. He admired the way nobody could best him in a fight; that he was tall and agile and moved like the fabled ninjas of a far-off kingdom that they didn’t have diplomatic relations with.

He also admired the way Akira would smile when he encountered cats and small children; how he would hold the hands of a lost child and help them safely return to their parents. He admired that while often gentle, Akira had a passionate, burning fire in him and a sense of justice that couldn’t be matched. He admired the way he looked in his uniform, how dignified he seemed to be as he carried himself. And maybe just a little, he admired the way Akira looked from behind when he exited the room.

Akira, on the other hand, was nowhere near the boy he once was. Rather than playful and rebellious, he was quiet and duty-driven. He didn’t speak that often to others, but he had a commanding sense, an ability to control the room when he did. Though he was still a warm person by nature and looked out for everyone’s best interests (though mostly Minato’s), he was incredibly reserved. He hid his feelings behind the lenses of his spectacles, and most never knew much of what mattered to Akira. He never showed true interest in anyone but Minato, and even that seemed to be almost an obsessive brand of loyalty rather than anything else. The only thing people knew about Akira’s goals beyond that was his single-minded quest to find the man that caused The Fall and bring him to justice. Rumors had it that Akira wanted to finish the job he couldn’t ten years ago—to see his death by his own hand. Rumors were rumors, though, and even when Minato would hear those whispers, he was quick to ignore them.

The thing nobody knew—not even Minato—was how those years made him long for what he couldn’t have. His obsessive nature to his duties was mostly out of guilt for what transpired ten years prior, though part of it was a wall Akira had set up for himself. A wall to keep him from acting on his own feelings beyond that sense of duty. Minato had grown up to be so gentle and compassionate despite the hardships he faced; he tried to see the best in everyone, and often, he even tried to understand his enemies and those who most would have sentenced to death for their transgressions. His nature often didn’t seem commanding; when he really needed to be assertive, Akira would often be the one to handle those matters for him—but Akira knew that Minato had an inner-strength that couldn’t be matched. He’d seen the way he carried on despite the tragedies they’d faced, and how he held back his suffering for the sake of everyone around him.

Akira had watched his king—and his best friend—grow into an amazing man. A man with so much charisma that women easily fell for him. A man who was so powerful, yet so humble. A man who was equal parts handsome and completely beautiful. A man that Akira himself wished he could keep for himself, but he knew that Minato was a man of the people, the leader of an amazing nation… and not one he could ever hope to keep for himself. So the feelings that had grown and developed through the course of his life were left locked away, masked behind duty, and to remain that way until he reached his own grave.

Or at least, that was what he believed would happen.

The twenty-seventh day of the fifth month on Arisatan Calendar year 769 had been a balmy one. Really, it had been a series of balmy, sunny days, and that was what had led Akira to the position he had currently been in.

Rather than handle his duties responsibly, he pushed himself to the limit, and when he heard a rumor that a man wearing black gloves had been sighted in the capital, he knew it was a lead he would have to chase. A civilian wearing gloves in that sort of weather was suspicious, after all—and it masked well the scar that Akira would have left on his would-be assassin on that day ten years ago. While he knew it may not have been that traitor, he had to chase it. But he had chased too far and pushed his body to the limit, all the while not yielding any feasible results.

And because of that, he’d run himself ragged. When he tried to pull himself out of bed the next morning, he was sure he was going to die. His body ached from head to toe; even his  _ hair _ seemed to hurt. He was hot, paled, and the effort it took to stand up felt completely monumental.

_ He was sick. _

Akira didn’t get sick often, and when he did, he was accustomed to putting on a brave face and working through it. And so, he decided that was what he would do. Even though the room was spinning, he dressed himself to the nines, full uniform, even though all of his business was within the palace gates on that day. Before all else, he trudged (or marched, he thought, but his feet were dragging, whether or not he realized it) to Minato’s quarters. He knocked twice, as per routine, before pushing the door open.

“Good morning, my lord…” the words came out much weaker than he’d imagined them in his head—and it was only natural that Minato took notice of his status.

“Akira… are you unwell?” Concern lined his tone, but Akira shook his head in quiet refusal.

“I worked a bit late last night,” still voiced weakly, and still left Akira cursing his inability to hide that. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

“...You’re a terrible liar,” Minato offered dryly; he pushed himself up from where he was seated to close the gap between himself and Akira. Once he was close enough, he tugged at the ends of Akira’s coat. “Your buttons are crooked, and you’re paler than I’ve ever seen you in nearly three decades.”

He sighed, settled somewhere between mildly amused and completely unamused at his retainer’s stubbornness.

“Ah,” though normally restrained, Akira sounded surprisingly candid in his surprise. “Please excuse me, my lord. I’ll tend to that now.”

He could excuse himself for a moment. He could leave the room, rebutton his coat, splash his face with water, and walk off this illness. He could do that. He could—

_ He couldn’t. At all. _

Though he turned to leave the room and not disgrace himself any further in front of Minato, a wash of heat and dizziness swept over him. He couldn’t even finish his thought before he collapsed. The fever he wanted to ignore had completely overtaken him, and Minato was hardly agile enough—or physically strong enough—to catch him. All Minato could do was roll him over and check him quickly for any injuries before calling out to the closest guards.

“Iori,” Fortunately, there were always at least two posted right outside of his quarters, thanks to Akira’s strict security. “Kurusu is ill. Carry him to my bed, and have someone fetch the doctor.”

“Your…?”

Though the guard seemed dumbfounded by that request, Minato simply nodded his head. If Akira was going to push himself beyond his reasonable limitation, then he would have to look after him. It wasn’t very dignified for a king to do, he supposed, but Minato didn’t really  _ care. _ Akira had taken ill, presumably because he had recklessly chased another lead. It seemed that whenever there was a sighting of their most wanted man, Akira was running off and getting himself injured, or worse. He supposed a simple fever was better than sustaining an injury, but given how Akira tried to play down both…

He would just have to do the best he could.

With Akira laid out in his bed, and the doctor having confirmed that he was mostly in need of rest and hydration, Minato elected to sit at the edge of the bed; he pressed a cool, damp cloth against Minato’s head and sighed. 

“Will you ever learn?” Though it was aimed at a sleeping Akira, it was rhetorical and spoken softly. Chiding, but barely so, in a way that only Minato could. He shifted slightly to brush away hair that stuck to Akira’s forehead in order to neatly move the makeshift compress. “You’re too reckless. But…”

_ But… _

There was more to say, but those words died in his throat as Akira stirred. Slowly, eyes fluttered open, and though it seemed like Akira was looking at him, it was a gaze that was distant, as if Akira wasn’t fully cognizant of his surroundings. His brows drew together slightly, and Minato’s breath caught in his throat. Truthfully, he expected to be scolded by Akira for acting so…  _ common _ , even though it wasn’t something that mattered all that much to Minato in this particular situation. He expected that Akira would sit up and insist that he just needed rest. He expected that Akira would balk at being put to bed in… Minato’s bed, of all places, given that none aside from Akira himself were typically even permitted to enter, save for the maids that cleaned and those that attended to dressing Minato when he wore his full garbs.

Rather than that, though, a small voice came from Akira.

“Min… min?”

All it took was one single, slowly drawn out word for Minato to feel as if his heart could stop in his chest.  _ Minmin. _ He hadn’t heard Akira call him that since they were children; he hadn’t even heard Akira call him by his  _ name _ in fourteen years. It was apparent that Akira was unwell enough to not have his wits about him, and while it would have been ease to tease him for that, Minato actually needed a moment to collect himself.

“Mm. Do you need something, Rara?” Minato’s best course of action was to respond in kind; it was so rare that they could be unfiltered with each other that even if a dire moment like this one, he didn’t want it to go to waste. The last time he could remember Akira letting his guard down was only weeks after his coronation, when they were still struggling through the process of ruling a country and mourning their families.

A moment like this, it was rare, and he didn’t want it to be wasted.

Hearing ‘Rara’ from Minato’s mouth caused a small smile to play at Akira’s lips, though. It was weak, sickly and tired, but somehow warmer than anything MInato had seen from him in years directly.

“No…” he responded quietly. “Just like this is okay.”

Akira reached up to place a hand over Minato’s, and for the second time in just a few moments, he felt as if his heart would leap from his chest.

“Like this? I’m not sure… I follow.”

He wasn’t sure exactly what Akira wanted, or what he was feeling. Surely, he wanted water, or soup, or a fresh compress. Perhaps he even wanted something to aid in reducing his fever, but all he wanted was for Minato to sit there in that manner? It was strange… yet so strangely  _ Akira.  _ Akira in a way Minato had forgotten possible. Though clearly feverish and maybe even delusional, this was the Akira he remembered before they got too serious in their roles. A gentle, quiet boy who just enjoyed sharing company.

“You’re right here. It’s… a nice dream.”

_ I’m always right here, _ is what Minato thought, but never said. He’s always been there, with Akira at his side. But maybe it had been because things changed. Maybe Akira stayed by his side out of duty and guilt. Maybe…

The things they sought, the dreams they had as kids, maybe those were just distant memories now that they were 26 and not 6. Minato wasn’t sure, and truthfully, he wasn’t sure either how he was supposed to respond to that.

“Then… I’ll stay right here,” maybe it was all he could say. If Akira needed that in order to get back on his feet, it was the least he could do. In the last ten years, Akira did nothing but try to keep him happy. He tended to his wildest whims, he protected him from every threat imaginable, he always knew exactly what Minato needed at any given moment. In turn, Minato—well, Minato hadn’t been sure he really did  _ anything _ for Akira.

So instead, he cupped his hands over Akira’s cheeks, and pressed their foreheads together. Separated by the damp washcloth, it still felt warm; hot, even. It was hard to say if it was from the heat Akira’s fever was generating—but it wasn’t as if Akira was in any state to call out the flush of Minato’s own cheeks from the situation he’d put himself in. “Until it’s time to wake up from your dream.”

That much, Minato was sure he could do. It was an odd feeling as the realization set in that he had never done anything for Akira. Akira was so kind, so loyal to him. Akira… How much had he sacrificed for that loyalty and devotion? How much had he given up that simply being like this, with Minato hovering over him was something of a dream he wanted to hold onto? Thinking about it like that, it was entirely too sad.

Minato wanted nothing more than for the people of his kingdom to prosper. He had spent the last ten years working hard alongside Akira and the heads of the Six Ruling Houses in order to better every territory under his rule. He’d done what he could to make the living conditions in the palace suitable for everyone regardless of rank, especially with the heightened security Akira had insisted on following The Fall. And yet still… it was hard for him to say that he or Akira were happy. And while his own happiness mattered little to him so long as he could play his role properly, the thought of Akira being unhappy was one that he couldn’t stand to think about.

He knew, after all, that losing his parents and Ren had been painful; it was the same for himself to see his family (and extended family) taken from them that way. He could remember the way Akira locked himself in his quarters and then never spoke of the matter again after the burial service and funeral. Akira did nothing but work after that, and he wondered… if having a retainer so loyal was even fair. If Akira was doing that at the cost of his own happiness, did he really need someone to be his shield, to tell him his daily agenda, to fetch him water just because he was a little parched on a given day?

Had he taken Akira’s happiness at the cost of his own convenience, just because they were raised to believe that it was  _ supposed _ to be that way? The Kurusu family had been treated as being of nearly the same importance, and yet…

“Akira,” Minato broke the silence that persisted as Akira rested. His hands remained warmly over Akira’s cheeks, and quietly and sincerely, he asked, “What... is your dream?”

For a moment, Akira’s eyes opened to blearily look into Minato’s before he closed them once more. And then quietly and simply, he offered his own response. “To stay here… to see you happy.”

Silence fell once more. Akira was candidly honest; he hadn’t even paused to consider it. To him, what was important was seeing Minato to happiness. Because they both had suffered so much, but because he knew especially that Minato was probably the loneliest person in all of the kingdom. He wanted to see Minato happy. He wanted to bring Minato some of that, he wanted to stay by his side somehow, in some way.

And for Minato, who had never known that, it was the sort of shocking response he didn’t know how to react to. He sucked in a quiet breath; he felt shaken in a way that nothing else could draw from him. He’d long since desensitized himself to a lot; after seeing all of the blood from that fateful night, he didn’t allow himself to feel very much at all most of the time.

“Are you aware… of what would make me happy?”

That question drew pause from Akira, but his head shook slightly after a moment. “I’m still looking. But if I can… then…”

Whatever it was Akira was trying to say, it was lost as he succumbed to sleep; his fever stole the rest of that thought, the thought that if he could find it, he would carry it out—he would do whatever it took if it meant seeing Minato’s happiness and safety. Minato was left to wonder what that meant. What Akira really wanted—and just why he was seeking a way to bring Minato’s happiness while never asking a single thing of him.

Loyalty… it was confusing. It was kind and touching, and yet in some way, Minato felt like his heart would burst. Could loyalty be painful?

He supposed there wasn’t any way of knowing, especially not when Akira himself couldn’t seem to provide that answer. With him having lost consciousness, Minato wasn’t sure when he’d be able to speak to Akira so candidly again. So instead, he stayed by Akira’s side through to the evening. When the fever finally broke, he called in a guard and requested Akira be taken back to his room for the rest of the night, so he could rest comfortably in his own bed.

  
  


* * *

  
  


 

When Akira woke the next morning, it was without memory of his fever dream. He was able to get up and get ready for his day as per his usual routine, though he paused briefly as he washed his face in order to cup his own cheeks. There was a strange sense of warmth to it that he couldn’t place—but there was little time to dwell on it, either. He had far too much to tend to after losing a day to being sick.

So he showered, he dressed in his daily attire, and headed towards Minato’s quarters as always. Two knocks before he pushed the door open, and the offering of “Good morning, my lord.”

It was as if nothing happened. He closed the door behind him, but stood in front of the frame with a straight, tall stance. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he bowed his head slightly. “My apologies for yesterday, my lord. I know I inconvenienced you with my illness.”

Minato sat up from his spot in the bed. His hair was exceptionally disheveled that morning, thanks to the late night he had tending to Akira; he hadn’t slept well. And because of that, he wasn’t too amused with Akira’s apologies.

“You aren’t an empty suit of armor, Akira.  I’m not reprimanding you for falling ill...”

“But there’s something more you wish to say, isn’t there?”

Minato paused for a moment; though Akira was incredibly loyal and didn’t often respond in combative ways, he found it surprising how little he hesitated to call that out. It was the truth, and Akira was known for being able to finish his sentences on most occasions, and yet still, it felt a little surprising. Perhaps it had been because of Akira’s vulnerabilities just a day earlier, or perhaps because he knew Akira just wanted to avoid beating around the bush—whatever it was, he needed to give himself a moment before straightening himself out and offering a response to confirm that. He took a long moment to study Akira’s expressions; it was as if at that moment, that ‘dream’ that Akira had was just that. A dream. Gone was that sense of vulnerability, gone were the stated wants for the past, talk of dreams of desires, or even those casual nicknames they once had for each other. This was the Akira Kurusu he’d known for the last ten years. Loyal to a fault, duty-oriented, and ready to take on whatever it was he needed to for the sake of his king and the Arisato Kingdom.

“However… despite your taking a day due to falling ill, I have an important request today.”

It certainly wasn’t what Akira was expecting to hear, but he couldn’t deny to himself that it was a bit relieving. Minato's requests were something he was used to handling on a day-to-day basis, after all.

“Understood. What is it that you request?”

To that, Minato smiled almost peacefully and allowed his eyes to flutter closed for a brief moment.

“I want to walk the capital,” and after a brief pause, he offered an expression that was unfamiliar to Akira. It was warm, and almost devious, but yet still refined and purposeful.

He could never have read those expressions as what Minato’s intentions were, try as he might. He had no idea that all Minato wanted was to allow them both a day of quiet freedom from the burdens they carried. A day… that would give Minato some happiness, and help Akira to experience some of his own, as well.

“...As a citizen. And that means you’ll have to accompany me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, the first in (hopefully) a series chronicling the relationship of King Minato Arisato and his loyal retainer, Akira Kurusu! This is both just a small introduction to the worldbuilding and a small moment of fluff to introduce a little more about them as well. It started out as a bit of a (now belated) birthday gift for [NemiruTami](http://nemirutami.tumblr.com), who inspired this AU with art—and the two of us literally spending 24+ hours discussing concepts and scenarios. 
> 
> We have slightly different takes on the AU, mostly in the backstory and some headcanons, though a lot of present concepts are things we discussed. Still, I highly recommend checking out their [Royalty/Retainer AU](http://nemirutami.tumblr.com/tagged/royalty%2Fretainer-au) content, because it's wonderful and inspiring, and we have been feeding each other inspiration for a bit now! I'm still undecided on how much more I will write for this AU, though there is a lot I'd love to explore, so feel free to let me know if you want to see more of it! ♥♥ Thanks for reading, everyone, if you made it this far!


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